Yellow
by Gun toten Girly
Summary: -Oneshot- For a person of your magnitude, it was impossible to believe you could be taken down so easily. And by what? A sickness? I refused to believe it. But even so, for years on end, I slowly lost my hope. Humans were fragile creatures, after all.


**Yellow**

__

* * *

**Oro**

_White._

He glowed against the blankets.

_Black._

His hair stood out like a sore thumb.

_Blue._

The veins on his wrists stood prominent against his skin.

_Purple._

Heavy bags were hooked underneath his eyes.

_Grey._

The angles of his face cast dark shadows across his features.

_Red._

Lips barely parted, a small sliver of gum poked through the opening.

_Green._

The bright line kept jumping and arcing on the monitor.

_Brown._

The blankets that kept him warm were honey.

_Pink._

His lips were a light magenta in a cluster of chrysanthemums.

_Yellow._

…

She realized with a start that there was nothing to describe yellow with. Every other color she did. It was hard to describe him with yellow. How could this bright, positive color relate to him? Especially at a time like this?

She supposed she could use gold—as it _was_ the material that brought them together in the first place—but she knew him to be an entirely different person since then. He wasn't greedy or selfish… to the extent that he was _before_. Any other person would say he was self-absorbed, but the people closest to him—the ones that mattered—could distinctly write a timeline of when he started to change positively.

_Yellow. _

She pondered on the aforementioned problem.

Well, in Mayan culture the bright color meant something precious or ripe; something to be grateful of, to look onwards with a sense of appreciation.

She presumed that could be something to describe his personality. He was one-of-a-kind, a creature that couldn't be copied. He was… _unpredictable_, alternating between selflessness and self-indulgence. Just when she thought he would react with a negative approach—a little _something_ in return for a favor—he would react with cheery jubilance, almost _grateful_ to help her.

He confused her.

The only reference to yellow she could think of in literature was _Old Yeller_. Could he be a person that saves the lives of those through selflessness? Loyalty and love? She observed his weak body on the bed. Their recent adventure—with the safety of his mother on the line—was evidence to this claim.

She abruptly realized the fact that she had compared him to a dog.

A smile spread across her face.

In American culture it was considered cowardly to be compared to yellow. Was he cowardly? Surely some time in his life he had felt fear and escaped. _Yes_, she concluded. _What else could explain his unemotional-façade_? But his face, open and vulnerable as it was now, clashed enormously with the question.

It was also a sign for caution, explaining the use of it in traffic-lights. She didn't think she had met anyone that was more cautious than he was. He even had people to protect him—if _that_ wasn't precaution, she wasn't sure what was. And had he ever been caught for his wrongdoings? Obviously not. Caution was a part of his everyday life.

Yellow in Italian meant crime, as the first crime-inducing-novels were published with that hue as the cover. _Yes_, she said doubtlessly in her head, _he was a criminal, to the very extent of the word_. She wasn't even sure if he could count the amount of illegal acts he had committed.

She propped her chin on her knees, eyes glued to the slumbering human. Tears probed at her skin, dragging themselves across the surface and dripping off her face. With each beat of her heart she realized she was slowly slipping under the surface of sleep, too. Would they be able to meet in dreamland? She rested her head on its side.

It was a question she thought of each year she came here.

Every breath he raked in made her wince. Does she really have to sit here? Does she have to witness this? Surely there was a rule that excluded her from watching. How could anyone sit here and watch their friend slowly wither away in front of their eyes?

It was almost a routine. Watching someone she loved dearly pass on. Why? What had she done? She was fed up. She wanted answers.

But… not tonight.

She had a feeling that tonight would be a significant night in her life.

His chest struggled to move upwards. She could feel the strain on her body as he made the move to inhale. He was far too young, much too inexperienced. Death by 19? Her heart pumped the tears harder.

She was done beating around the bush. For almost 60 years she had done the very thing, and it only produced an everlasting trail of pain as she avoided the subject. With each denial came another block of agony. And when the pile grew too high it had to fall down. And when it fell down…

Holly dug her face into her hands.

The rhythmic _beep_ing charred a hole into her heart. It was supposed to be a sign—a sign of life, of hope.

But, strangely, it brought grief.

It brought the bare, true fact to the surface.

Every beat was closer to his death.

She trembled with a silent sob. Alone as she was, she couldn't believe she had done this without company. No amount of threatening from her commander could've changed her mind, though. No amount of red tape or un-authorization could've kept her away. With a resound gulp, she was actually relieved to have entered the hospital window alone.

No one needed to see this.

And she had worried about her job! She scoffed in disbelief, murderously angry at herself. She had been worrying about her career when her best friend was slipping through her fingers at this second.

She couldn't keep her eyes off him for much longer. Lifting her head from her palms, she gazed at the once great Artemis Fowl.

The greatest change about him was his appearance. His hair was a stringy mass upon his head. It was long, with the shortest lock reaching the top of his shoulder. A strange urge to run her fingers through it and comb it into that perfect style overcame her. She hastily pushed it down.

His skin was scratchy and unhealthy. It didn't have the soft feel to it anymore. She couldn't count the amount of times she had traced her fingertips over the lines of his palm. The smoothness was replaced with sandpaper, and made her want to run his hands under a faucet to regain the soft texture again.

The ghost on the bed was not her friend. Her friend was animated, his expressions either thoughtful or accompanied with a hidden smile. He was meticulous, though when around his family he quickly forgot the up keeping of his appearance and focused more on all their happiness. The effect of siblings had softened him.

It turned him into a gentler, warmer person.

A person they loved.

But… yellow?

A fleeting thought of the Chinese meaning entered her mind, and she blushed profusely. She knew for a fact that he wasn't like that. She couldn't even think the thought as it was so… _scandalous_ to even associate the notion with him. He was noble and—though rarely—gentlemanly. He would never desecrate his mind or a fellow human with such viewing.

Yellow could also mean the process of aging—

Her train of thought derailed when a cough echoed around the room. Blinking back her inattentiveness, she watched with baited breath as the human on the bed settled back into a regular breathing.

Never before had that happened.

_Never._

Her heart pounded in her throat, bile risking to enter her mouth. She refused the urge to clutch at her cramping stomach. Her breathing increased tenfold. What did this mean? She couldn't swallow. Should she tell Butler? Foaly? Would they know what to do?

She took a shuddering breath and closed her eyes, the tears wedging underneath her lids. She needed to be calm. This time next year, she would be here again. And though she dearly hoped not, a feeling inside of her told her she might be seeing Artemis sooner than she thought. Was it a good or bad feeling? She didn't know. Would he be lying on this same bed, or in a coffin?

A choking gasp wormed its way up her throat. The thought was so sudden she hadn't time to prepare herself. She felt her heart rate increase dramatically. Keeping the sobs silent was becoming difficult, as well.

_When was the last time I felt like this_? she thought, trying to distract herself to calm down.

She closed her eyes again and focused on the question. She recalled this feeling, though it was old and withered. As if it were as simple as opening a story book, the memories splayed out in front of her…

**

* * *

**

…It was December of 2011. In Haven, the heaters were cooled to give a somewhat realistic approach to the holidays. Some celebrated Christmas, some Hanukkah. The People had kept the same religions as humans did, seeing as how they had celebrated and believed in the same ideas Mud Men did before the Battle of Tailte.

Personally, I didn't celebrate any. I didn't have a family to celebrate it with. My grandmother was the only surviving member of my family, and she had claimed to disown my mother after she had married my father without their approval. Apparently she was outraged and moved as far away as she could. But I was an only child, with parents that weren't around anymore, and a grandmother who hated me.

So Christmas was out.

I had already done my Christmas shopping for Foaly, his wife Caballine, Mulch, Doodah, Trouble, and any one else I could think of. I was feeling slightly cheery this year, and had even gotten Lili Frond a gift.

Of course in the card I had wanted to put "once a slut always a slut" but there are some things that even I decided were cruel, and instead put the standard "Merry Christmas".

I was walking home. The cold air had affected most fairies—who now had an excuse to snuggle up with a blanket in front of their heaters and watch television. But, being an LEP officer, I had sacrificed that luxury to make sure the city was safe. And during Christmas time—an annoying habit fairies had picked up from Mud Men—shoplifting was as strong as ever.

There was no snow, as typical wintry scenes depicted. That would've been too much, and besides, where would all the melted water go? It was just a hassle that was left for the Mud Men to deal with, though I was sure that every fairy—including myself—would love to go to the surface just to see snow fall.

That night it was unusually quiet. No screaming vendors or criminals trying to make a run with something heavy—idiotic on their part—or valuable. The scarf around my neck was to cover my LEP badge, as every officer on the streets had to make themselves known that they were on-duty. The scarf, however, added to the affect that I was just a walking civilian, and a criminal would deem it safe to steal something from right under my nose.

"Captain Short, you're relieved of your post. You can return home now."

_Good. I'm hungry_, I thought.

…_And my feet ache from walking around so much._

"Copy that. Is Reed taking my shift?"

A crackle of static. I should really tell Foaly about that, but it kept slipping my mind.

He sighed. "Yes, Short. You're off duty as of now. No need to make us pay you more." I heard the click as he turned the mic off, my earphone picking up the subtle sound.

Sniggering, I jogged my way around the block. Winter was the easiest time for me to burn calories and gain muscle, as a fairy body automatically uses fat to create insulation. Humans have the ability as well, but fairies burn more fuel, to say it simply.

I thought about how thin Artemis was. When we had to hold hands when time-traveling back in time. Did that boy know how skinny he was? I could see almost every rib, and yet he looked completely in his element, aside from a tomato-red face. He looked unhealthy, and yet I couldn't bring myself to say anything I was so shocked.

Did he really spend that much time on computers or committing crimes? That he forgets to eat? To spend time with his family?

I shrugged, deciding to force the blame on his father. After all, he was the one who never appreciated how much Artemis worked. I remembered the memory-video Foaly and I had watched. How he had strived to make his father proud of him, but only ended up rejected each time.

My heart really went out to the Mud Boy when I watched that. Why had such a loving, innocent young boy wanted to be more like the monster his father was? I understood that Artemis felt the need for his father to be proud of him—my own feats at impressing my dad were incredible. But I had no idea what it was like to know that my own _father_ never truly loved me.

So it was a shock when I suddenly remembered how desperately Artemis had wanted his family back together. How he was willing to risk his own life in the Arctic, to spend half a ton of gold to bring his mother out of insanity, and to freeze his bodyguard in ice until help could arrive.

He was remarkable, one of a kind.

A smile wormed its way on my face as I unlocked my apartment door. Everything was the same as it was—the phone not on its jack, the magazines scattered across the coffee table, and the hamper of dirty laundry waiting to be taken down to wash room. Closing and locking the door behind me, I headed into my room to change and hang up my undercover uniform.

Dressed in my pajamas for the night, I made my way over to my computer. Foaly had been unusually kind by giving me a new computer, which either meant A) he wanted a favor, or B) he had done something wrong. I still wasn't sure yet—as he had given it to me a couple weeks ago "as an early Christmas present" he had claimed. But I was sure I was going to find out soon.

A red icon blipped in the corner of my screen.

_D'Arvit!_ I thought. Artemis had sent me another emergency letter. The last time this happened, I ended up being pubescent and kissing him!

Slightly wary as to what the message would say, I touched the icon on the screen. The envelope rose as slowly as possible to fill the entire monitor. With my fingers clutching at the desk, I looked at the message.

Odd, it was only 2 lines long… I frowned as I tried to focus on the small letters, rubbing my eyes to help rid of the blur. Even so, it only had a few words per sentence. I remembered the last time his message was short.

My first reaction was: _That's not Artemis._

My second was: _…Dear Frond…_

**Holly,**

**This is Butler.**

**Artemis had a seizure.**

**

* * *

**

She shook her head, amazed that from just a small, insignificant case of a sinus infection, Artemis had contracted a seizure.

A seizure that robbed 2 years of his life.

From the moment Holly had read that email, she contacted Fowl Manor. It was a stupid move—though she had made sure Foaly was on the other line to help cover her tracks as she did so. She didn't want Artemis Sr. or Angeline to find her number on their caller ID—but she was a wreck.

When nobody answered that phone, she called—with permission from Foaly (who was also scared beyond wits end at that moment)—Butler's cell phone. It wasn't an easy number to find, but Foaly had finally found it during their "adventure" in Hybras. Calling him, Holly remembered the phone call.

"_Hello?" Butler answered the phone, his voice filled to the brim with anxiety and impatience._

"_Butler? This is Holly." Holly tried not to sound too worried. Surely Foaly would use this as blackmail for later, if Artemis was okay and not in serious condition._

"_Oh Gods, Holly," She could practically _hear_ him rubbing his forehead. She gulped, her hands trembling as they gripped her chair. From Butler's tone, she knew it was bad. She didn't care if Foaly used this as blackmail. She could tell from his expression that he most likely wouldn't._

_A half-hour earlier, she had made a running sprint towards Police Plaza (after putting on a pair of pants and a jacket) where she knew Foaly was doing overtime until 12 at night. Upon arriving, Holly had told Foaly of the message and both agreed to call the manservant._

"_Butler, is he okay?" Foaly frowned from only hearing Holly's end of the conversation and motioned for her to put the phone on speaker. She did so, clicking the button._

_Butler's deep voice filled the room. "Holly, I don't know. They're not telling us anything." Voices and phones ringing in the background filled the empty silence. "It doesn't look good." They both could hear the helplessness and fear in his voice._

"_What happened?" Foaly asked, plopping into his specially made chair._

_Butler sighed. "He had been complaining of a sinus infection for a while now. He took some medication, and went to bed. I took his temperature before he did, and he was running a small fever, about 99.2, I believe. But this morning, when he didn't wake up for breakfast…"_

_Holly's eyes were huge, displaying the tears on the inner-rim of her eyelids to anyone who dared to look at her. Her expression was heartbreaking enough for anyone to not even glance at her._

"_He had a massive seizure—" Butler's voice cut off as another man's cut in. Holly and Foaly tried their hardest to listen in, but they could only hear the words slur together as someone—most likely a doctor—spoke._

_Holly's heart pounded. Artemis. He had to be okay. He had to. They've fought demons. They've broken into a technologically-advanced building. They've ran from trolls, scoured the Arctic, gone back in time to save a _monkey.

_There's no way a simple sickness could bring him down. Not Artemis. Not him._

_Butler's voice came back, shaking and close to the edge of crying._

"_He's in a coma."_

Holly had never before heard Butler in such a depressed state. The bodyguard had made it his personal duty to stand beside Artemis 24/7.

That was a year ago.

Artemis had been in a coma for almost 2 years, now. A few months ago, Butler had told her that he couldn't do it, and she didn't blame him. Having to watch someone whom you've known since their _birth_ lay lifeless on a bed would be traumatizing for anyone. Holly was surprised he had lasted as long as he did, but on the other hand she wasn't. Butler's love for Artemis would be enough to withstand anything. But it was Butler's attachment that was the ultimate downfall. He couldn't stand it anymore.

Just when Holly was about to break down and sob again, another cough echoed around the room. Holly's head jerked up, and she climbed off the little chair to her friend's side. Two coughs in less than—Holly checked the time on her visor—three minutes _obviously_ meant something. There was no way someone in a coma would do that.

Standing on her tiptoes, Holly peered at her friend's face. The smooth edges were rough, and a shadow was just forming on his jaw where a beard was growing in. Holly peered at his eyes, trying to discern if he was okay. Was he going to wake up? Flatline?

What?

She felt like shaking him. _Give me some answers or do something already!_ she wanted to scream.

Sighing, she stood back on her heels. She should probably leave. It wouldn't do any good for someone to walk in and see her. Though Foaly said he was monitoring the cameras outside—as there were no cameras inside the rooms themselves—and would alert her if something came up.

She knew she was lying to herself. Artemis could cough regularly in his coma and she could be making a big deal of it for nothing. It broke her heart to see her once strong, resilient friend in such a vulnerable state.

She needed to leave.

Turning, she flexed her fingers to activate her wings.

Another cough. Though it sounded forced.

_Forced_…

Holly whirled around, her fingers tingling from anticipation. She wanted to touch her friend so badly. Either to slap him for making her go through hell for the past 2 years or stroke his head and hug him for waking up.

She wasn't sure which one.

Eyes bright with hope, she watched as his relaxed face frowned slightly. Disappointment crashed into her like a wrecking ball. She felt as if she had doubled over, though physically she was trembling with anticipation. And impatience. She just wanted something to _happen_! It was to the point where if he were to die—she screeched mentally at the very thought, knowing what she was about to say was a lie—it would at least give her closure. On the other hand, if he woke up, it would be the greatest Christmas present she would have ever received.

A friend escaping death would satisfy her to no end. Pride was already swelling in her chest, but she had to force it back down. It wouldn't do any good to have expectations that could be crashed into dust.

Her attention turned to his brain-monitor. It was slightly jumping, making more motion than it had a few moments ago. Heart clogging her airway, she witnessed the spikes and jumps grown more aggressive. She couldn't breathe, so she stopped. Holding her breath, she shakily made her way over to Artemis.

And as she stood there, watching his long, dark eyelashes flutter open, she realized that yellow didn't matter. If yellow had to describe something, she would have to say it portrayed his effort, the will to shine through anything and everything in his ability. His brightness was enough to send her eyes watering, and a small breath to wheeze out of her.

Yes. Yellow was his soul. His pure, bright, wonderful soul. And yet it wasn't completely white and innocent. Crimes had tainted his virtue. Scenes from the memory disk flitted through her mind. She remembered seeing a boy hungry for acceptance from his father. The small toddler, who had walked up the stairs for the first time just to hear his father say he was proud for accomplishing such a feat.

Her heart expanded to fill her chest.

His heart monitor picked up. Faster and faster it went, drifting upwards from a sluggish crawl to a healthy tempo. Holly scrambled to make a connection with Foaly, but before she could, a raspy, hoarse noise came to her attention.

This time, her own heart stopped.

Artemis groaned, exhausted. What had happened? It felt as if he slept forever. _Those medication pills had the opposite affect_, he thought. _I should really throw those out_. He was so tired, that he couldn't even lift his arms or legs.

A slight frown creased his brow. Why couldn't he move? The need to use a bathroom was great, and he felt itchy and dirty everywhere.

Once more, he noticed it was much too bright to be his bedroom. The walls were a light rose, with some sort of splotchy pattern across the walls.

He knew he _definitely_ hadn't painted his room light pink.

"Mmbrgh…" he mumbled. He had tried to say "Where am I?" but after trying to say the first word he realized that vocalization was a loss. Was he truly that tired? It was impossible to imagine the pain he had been in, especially since he felt the overwhelming fatigue. Why had he taken medication in the first place? Sinus-infection? His face didn't hurt anymore—in fact, he just felt tired.

Something dark irrupted in the corner of his vision. Slowly, he dragged his eyes over towards the figure. At this point, he didn't exactly care what it was. Could it explain why he was so tired?

A twinge of surprised pleasure shot through his heart. Holly? Why was Holly in his room? Wait, not _his_ room, he remembered. Someone's room. Was he kidnapped? Can she tell him where he was?

"Hrmm?" He tried to force his mouth to interact with his mind. His attempts at speaking weren't getting him far. Embarrassed, Artemis closed his eyes and slowly opened them again to try and convey his exhaustion.

Strangely, Holly's eyes were red. Shock jolted at his heart, and concern lazily scrawled through his eyes. He was tired, but not enough to read his friend's expression. She had been in pain, though the agony was slowly soaking out of her face only to be replaced with elation.

Elation?

She gripped his limp hand, the feel of her soft, smooth skin a striking contrast to his scratchy palm. She lifted his hand—it was certainly bigger than he remembered—to her cheek and closed her eyes, a brilliant smile glowing across her features.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered, much to Artemis's bewilderment. He'd been asleep for an entire week? Where was Butler? His mother, father, the twins? Did they spend Christmas without them? Did they receive the gifts he had gotten for them?

Her hazel and cerulean eye met his own, the intensity of some sort of emotion pulsating through her irises.

"Welcome back."

**

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**

**Authoress Note:** An inspiration, I suppose from watching "Steel Magnolias." Probably one of the saddest movies I've ever seen. I bawled my eyes out.

Hopefully you guys liked this, too.

-Gun toten Girly


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